At Her Majesty's Pleasure
by smuttyandabsurd
Summary: Alfred is a young 18-year-old convict serving a life sentence in maximum security. Ivan is a corrupt Chief Warden running an illicit protection racket whose interest is piqued by the new blond inmate. Russia/America. Prison!AU.
1. Chapter 1

**At Her Majesty's Pleasure #1**

* * *

" _At Her Majesty's pleasure" (sometimes abbreviated to "Queen's pleasure") is a legal term of art referring to the indeterminate length of sentence of some prisoners._

* * *

 **#1 – Alfred**

Alfred had spent his first night sleeping on a lumpy mattress in borrowed clothes that were old and washed to an indistinguishable grey. Came the morning, as he shuffled into the canteen and immediately attracted the gaze of every prisoner in the maximum security ward, it was clear how much of a fresh target he presented to a room full of hardened criminals.

Steeling his blue gaze – and keeping his ill-fitting tracksuit bottoms from slipping off his ass (the elastic waistband hung loose around his hips) – he picked up a battered plastic tray and joined the queue at the food station.

It wasn't long before someone made a pass at him.

"You're pretty," breathed a large and hulking man into his ear as he accepted a bowl of porridge. "I have half a mind to ask for you tonight."

A slap to his bum followed that threat, making him jump and slop half his porridge down his front. He let out a curse. The man emitted a nasty guffaw as his foul hand squeezed his rear.

"I'll have that dirty mouth of yours wrapped around my cock soon, Blondie."

Alfred glared after the back of the man's receding head. The rest of the canteen returned to their food and chatter now that the tension had broken. As far as they were concerned, the newbie had just been claimed by Carlos, the ward's most notorious inmate, and there was no more sport to be had with him. But to Alfred, there was no question of him retaliating. Grabbing his half-laden tray and cutting through the crowd thronging the food station, he made his way towards the fat man as he was sitting laboriously down on a bench.

"Hey," he called, sounding braver than he felt.

The man turned his big fat stupid face around, his scowl breaking into a grin when he saw who it was.

"The name's Alfred Jones. You might wanna look me up."

And he smashed his tray across Carlos' face.

* * *

 **#1 – Ivan**

Ivan had hardly finished buttoning up his uniform when there came a long shrill blast of a guard's whistle, signalling that trouble had broken out.

He paused in his dressing, closed his eyes, and let out a long exhale of breath.

God have mercy on the fool who interrupts his morning routine, he thought with grim resolve.


	2. Chapter 2

**At Her Majesty's Pleasure #2**

* * *

" _At Her Majesty's pleasure" (sometimes abbreviated to "Queen's pleasure") is a legal term of art referring to the indeterminate length of sentence of some prisoners._

* * *

 **#2 – Ivan**

The prisoners were in uproar, standing and stomping their feet and braying at the fight that had broken out in the middle of the canteen. But as Ivan strode in, one by one they fell silent, and allowed themselves to be shoved and beaten aside by the wardens flanking him.

"Move aside, move aside," Warden Väinämöinen said as he pushed his way through the men, but his appeals were drowned out by Warden Weilschmidt's more vicious snarls at them to, "Get back! Get the fuck back!"

When they reached the source of the fight, both wardens fell immediately on Alfred, seizing him by the arms, and dragging him off Carlos who lay bloodied and cowering on the floor.

"YOU'RE SCUM!" Alfred yelled, then hacked his throat and spat after Carlos' cringing form.

"That's enough."

Ivan spoke softly, but his voice carried across the suddenly quiet canteen. All eyes fixed to Alfred as he was turned and forced to his knees by Wardens Väinämöinen and Weilschmidt.

Before seeing Alfred, it had not occurred to Ivan that the troublemaker would be a new and uninitiated recruit to their happy little family. He stared down at the boy, taking in his ill-fitting clothes and the way his young body shook with impotent rage, and his own earlier frustrations melted from him.

A smile formed slowly on his lips.

He was going to enjoy this.

* * *

 **#2 – Alfred**

Anticipation from the other prisoners hung over Alfred as he knelt on the floor. The man he learned to be Chief Warden Braginski was scrutinising him in an almost lascivious manner, and he glared back up at him through skewed glasses, his chest heaving with exertion. But slowly his temper cooled and his knees began to protest under his weight.

Fidgeting on the spot, he stretched and attempted to pull away from the wardens holding him down; he earned himself a shove and an even tighter grip on his locked arms for his effort.

"Alfred Jones, I believe?" the Chief Warden said, finally breaking the silence.

His voice was surprisingly soft-pitched for a man his size.

Before Alfred could reply, the Chief Warden bent down to his level and seized him by his hair. All that came out of him was a strangled yelp of pain.

"Let's make one thing clear," the Chief Warden said sweetly, oblivious to the hurt he was inflicting. "You are in my prison. Your life is in my hands. Your privileges are mine to give and take. For the rest of your miserable sentence here, you answer first and foremost to me."

He twisted his hand in Alfred's hair, causing him to whimper.

"There will be no more fights from you, I understand?"

It was all Alfred could do to nod his acquiescence.

"Good," the Chief Warden breathed. Then, thankfully, he released his hold of him.

As the Chief Warden rose to his feet, the other wardens let go of him as well, pushing him roughly away. His hands smacked on the dirty cement floor as he tried to regain his balance.

"Warden Weilschmidt, is Ten-Nine-Oh-Five still indisposed?"

"Yeah," the curiously pale and red-pupiled of the two wardens said.

"And what was his itinerary today?"

"The toilets, sinks and shower stalls. Why you ask?"

Alfred did not like the way the Chief Warden's smile spread thinly across his lips.

"Perhaps you could make use of our new friend here," he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**At Her Majesty's Pleasure #3**

* * *

" _At Her Majesty's pleasure" (sometimes abbreviated to "Queen's pleasure") is a legal term of art referring to the indeterminate length of sentence of some prisoners._

* * *

 **#3 – Alfred**

Water from the weak-pressured showerhead splattered on the tiled floor, swirling in a frothy foam around Alfred's hands and knees as he scrubbed vigorously at a build-up of dirt and lime scale. It was hard work, and the steam trapped in the glass cubicle was thick enough to smother him, but the condition of the prison showers was not at the forefront of his mind.

Staring vacantly at the yellow-brown stain he was scrubbing, all Alfred could think of was the rainy evening he had bunked off school early to bring his sick younger brother some medicine and chocolate treats. The house had been just as suffocating in the summer heat and rain, and the blood pooling and congealing on the threadbare carpet had taken the same yellow-brown hue he was now trying to scrub clean…

A knock on the glass door broke him from his reluctant reverie.

"You done in there, kid?"

He got up and squeaked off the running shower. The remaining water swirling around the bottom of the stall gurgled down the drain.

"Yeah," he lied; the stain was still visible.

As he stepped out, Warden Weilschmidt handed him a towel which he gratefully took.

"You are one lucky motherfucker, you know that?" Warden Weilschmidt said as he watched Alfred towel off his hair. "Let off with just a bit of cleaning duty. The Chief's getting soft."

The warden's lips, stretched in a leery grin, pursed suddenly to spit at the floor. Alfred flinched involuntarily from him. The warden looked up again and his face had hardened.

"If I had my way you would have gone straight to solitary," he said.

Then, in a blink of an eye, the dangerous glint in those unnaturally red pupils disappeared, and the shark-toothed grin was back.

"Change of clothes in the lockers. Proper garbs and all, not that halfway shit you were wearing last night. You know your number, don't you? Eleven-Two-Oh-One. You'll get used to your new name soon enough, kid."

 _He's being friendly_ , Alfred thought incredulously as he padded out of the shower room.

He pulled on his shirt, and was just unfolding a bright orange jumpsuit with the numbers "11201" printed on it, when Warden Weilschmidt popped his head around the locker with a scowl.

"Like fuck you're done! Get the fuck back in there, you lazy bastard!"

* * *

 **#3 – Ivan**

"You should've killed him! You should've killed that son of a bitch!"

It was taking all of Ivan's willpower not to reach out and throttle Carlos where he lay in the lap of luxury of the prison infirmary. He kept his vacant smile fixed, though his gloved hands were locked behind his back in a vicious grip.

"All in due time," he said. "I wanted to give you the chance to get even with the boy on your own terms. You know, to keep up appearances."

"Do I look like I give a shit? I want you to fix this shit – _now!_ "

Carlos slammed his fist on the overbed table bearing his meal, causing splatters of gravy and mash to land down the front of his hospital gown. He let out an ugly curse. Ivan, though not the cursing type, felt close to backhanding Carlos across his bruised and broken nose.

"As you wish," he said instead, and turned to leave.

Just before he stepped out the room, he paused to turn and look out the window.

"Your wife, Carlos. She is well, I hope?"

"What? Of course she is, why?"

"It's just that she's running a little late on this month's instalment."

Allowing himself a smile, Ivan continued his way out of the infirmary.

* * *

 **Bonus!Maximus**

Nothing should have pleased him more than the sight of Carlos getting the shit rightly kicked out of him, but Maximus was still a pragmatist.

What that gringo kid did, amusing as it was, was dangerous. It threatened to upset the structural hierarchy that had formed among inmates, and as someone who had fought his way to the top of the pile, it was in his interest to discourage the kid before things got too far.

Which was why he readily answered Carlos' summons that afternoon even though it meant forfeiting his outdoor break.

"You know what to do," Carlos said sourly as soon as he appeared.

Maximus' lips stretched in a thin unsmiling line.


	4. Chapter 4

**At Her Majesty's Pleasure #4**

* * *

" _At Her Majesty's pleasure" (sometimes abbreviated to "Queen's pleasure") is a legal term of art referring to the indeterminate length of sentence of some prisoners._

* * *

 **#4 – Ivan**

It was half past five in the evening.

The corridors were empty; the prisoners, having ended their work day, were being herded to wash up before dinner. In the distance there were sounds of gates slamming, punctuating Ivan's clicking footsteps as he walked through a windowless but brightly-lit corridor. He was headed towards the halfway house where new inmates were kept before being assigned a dormitory and integrated into the rest of the ward.

Alfred Jones was held in a halfway cell still as his transfer papers from the juvenile detention centre had yet to arrive. This happened to work in Ivan's favour since he intended to carry out Carlos' directive to its fullest satisfaction.

Just the thought of what he had in mind made his lips twitched at the corners in a smile.

"Stand behind the yellow line," Warden Laurinaitis intoned over the intercom. "Stand behind the yellow line, Eleven-Two-Oh-One, and put your hands out, please."

Alfred Jones shuffled out of bed, hair tousled and eyes heavy sleep, before stumbling to his feet and taking his place neatly behind the yellow line chalked to the floor. The boy suppressed a yawn as the gate buzzed and slid open with an electric hum.

Two wardens strode in and handcuffed the young prisoner's wrists together, and when they were done Ivan stepped in and nodded to dismiss them. The bars shut behind him with a clang.

"Good evening, Alfred. Ah, but I see you have been given your new name."

* * *

 **#4 – Alfred**

It took a moment for the fog to clear, and for his eyes to adjust and focus without the aid of his glasses on the Chief Warden's coldly smiling countenance. Instinctively, his cuffed hands lifted in a defensive pose; he couldn't explain why, but the sight of the Chief Warden made him wary.

Chief Warden Braginski took a step forward, and it was all Alfred could do to stop himself from taking a step back.

"In my prison I expect to be greeted on sight," the Chief Warden said mildly.

Alfred flushed, but kept his ground and simply stared.

The Chief Warden changed his tact.

He took two strides forwards – so quickly that Alfred had no time to react – clamped his hand around the boy's neck and pushed him up against the wall. Alfred let out a choked sound, more from surprise than any real pain, but fear began to bubble as the Chief Warden tightened his grip.

"This isn't personal," the Chief Warden breathed. "Simply a reminder that for as long as you serve in my prison, you answer to me. Is that clear?"

Alfred stared up at him, wide-eyed. He choked again as the Chief Warden pressed into his windpipe.

"Am I making myself clear?" he pressed.

Alfred nodded as vigorously as the Chief Warden would allow in his vice-like grip.

"Good."

The Chief Warden loosened his hold, and Alfred gasped and convulsed into a coughing fit from the air hitting the back of his throat.

Before he had time to recover, the Chief Warden said in a cold voice, "Carlos sends his regards."

* * *

 **Bonus!Toris**

Chief Warden Braginski's assault on Eleven-Two-Oh-One rolled in eerie, black-and-white silence from one of the CCTV screens lining the control room. A chair creaked in the darkness of the room as Warden Laurinaitis sat up and rolled over to look more closely at the screen.

As he watched, Braginski seized the young prisoner by his cuffed wrists and pinned them above his head against the back of the cell. With his free hand, he began undoing the front of the prisoner's jumpsuit, his fingers deftly popping each button out of its buttonhole. The prisoner hung lifelessly from his wrists, his face downcast and pale with fright.

"Eduard," he called. "Make sure to wipe the tape later for Cell B12."


	5. Chapter 5

**At Her Majesty's Pleasure #5**

* * *

" _At Her Majesty's pleasure" (sometimes abbreviated to "Queen's pleasure") is a legal term of art referring to the indeterminate length of sentence of some prisoners._

* * *

 **Bonus!child!Alfred**

Rain was drumming a heavy speckled rhythm against the glass window, matching Alfred's whimpering moans as the Reverend panted down his neck, his breath sour and smelling of stale cigarettes as it rolled over the boy's sweat-beaded skin.

"Open your legs, Alfred," the Reverend whispered into his ear. "A little more, a little more. That's a good boy."

Alfred balled his hands into tiny useless fists, trapped as they were above his head in the Reverend's large adult hand. He hated the Reverend, who was fat and balding and had horrible yellowing teeth, and he knew it was wrong for the man to be pawing between his legs.

But as disgustingly heavy and clammy as it was, the sensation was undeniably pleasurable.

"Mmmhh!" he groaned, and the Reverend chuckled.

"Does it feel good, little lamb? You're rubbing all by yourself into me."

Alfred swallowed back a moan, but continued thrusting shamelessly into the Reverend's hand.

* * *

 **#5 – Alfred**

Alfred's breath hitched as the Chief Warden's fingers brushed against a nipple.

"So you're sensitive here," the Chief Warden whispered. "Like a girl. What a lewd body you have."

He pinched and twisted at the pink little nub, causing Alfred to gasp and throw back his head. A sharp involuntary moan rose to his throat, but he bit off the end of it in stubborn defiance. He did not want to give the Chief Warden the satisfaction of hearing him moan.

The Chief Warden only laughed, emitting a soft childish giggle that was at odds with his size and persona. "You would defy me?" he breathed, his tone taunting but with a hint of a threat.

Alfred did not hear it. "Let me go!" he hissed above the sound of his thundering heart. He tried to sound braver than he felt.

The Chief Warden did let go of his nipple then, which he had toyed to a bruised tender nub. But his hand only slid down the length of Alfred's exposed chest and stomach, lightly tracing the trail of fair but thickening hair that led down to his crotch.

Alfred jumped, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming.

* * *

 **#5 – Ivan**

Ivan had not expected Alfred to struggle as hard as he did when he reached for his pants.

He had pegged the boy to be all bark but no bite in the face of authority, that he would surrender just as he did in the morning when Väinämöinen and Weilschmidt pulled him off Carlos. He was not stupid enough to defy men who held everything over him.

Yet now he was kicking and thrashing and crying to be let go. And in his frustration, Ivan grabbed him by the front of his jumpsuit and shook him violently.

"Do not fight me!" he hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Their gaze met, and with those words Alfred shrank suddenly away from him, ashen-faced, his body slumping, his hands unfisting and growing limp in Ivan's grip.

For some reason, this sudden acquiescence also irritated Ivan.

He reached down and thrust his hand into Alfred's trousers, gripping Alfred's cock a little tighter than was necessary, which choked a strangled cry from him.

"N-no, p-please!" Alfred begged, his eyes wide with terror.

Letting out a long exhale of breath, Ivan relaxed his grip and slowly started stroking. He kept to a gentle languid pace until Alfred's panicked breaths evened out to long shaky pants.

Bringing his lips close to the shell of Alfred's ear, he murmured, "I can make you feel good. I can make you feel pleasure. I can even ensure that the likes of Carlos never touch you in all your time here – for a price, of course.

"Or I can have you sold. Cell by cell, night after night, whoring you to every single man who would mount and toy and abuse you, until there is nothing left of you but a husk."

He watched as Alfred, who was beginning to relax, grew tense again at his words.

"You will keep that in mind the next time you think of punching one of my clients, won't you?"

Alfred stared up at him with a dawned expression, his breathing heavy and laborious from the stimulation. Ivan was satisfied that he understood. Cruelly, he retracted his hand just before the boy could climax, and drank in the shuddering sob that escaped those delectable lips before it could be bitten back.

Gently tipping Alfred's face up by the chin, he whispered, "That's a good boy."


End file.
